


The Restoration of Hogwarts: A Story of Love and Magic, by Rita Skeeter

by daniko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Pre-Slash, Secret Snarry Swap 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-01 21:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16772986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniko/pseuds/daniko
Summary: Rita Skeeter proposes to document the reconstruction works at Hogwarts for historical purposes.Snape gives away more than he planned.





	The Restoration of Hogwarts: A Story of Love and Magic, by Rita Skeeter

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written anything Potter-related in years and it felt rather like coming home :’) (But it also explains the stiffness of the writing…) Besides, Harry Potter came to Netflix on Halloween and, an eight-film marathon later, I managed to remind myself why I love this… It also means there might be some inconsistencies regarding the bookverse! Oh, and not quite Eighth Year, but something like that. Enjoy!
> 
> Prompt 29 from leotinabowie: Eighth Year. Harry needs to improve his Potions grade so he starts taking private lessons with Severus. With a new insight into what Severus is really like, Harry for the first time doesn't see him with suspicion but with intrigue, and rather likes what he sees. Flirty!Harry

Headmaster Snape climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's office, which had refused to welcome anyone but him since the Battle of Hogwarts. Conspicuously, the Golden Trio followed behind.

When the Gargoyle had not moved to anyone but Snape, he had been denied the early retirement he had moaned about during his brief stay in the Infirmary. Harry suspected he had hoped to be quit of the madhouse that was Wizarding Britain after his trial. Alas, his wounds had not yet healed, when Snape found himself the subject of one of Hermione’s campaigns. Hermione had told Snape’s story so well that even Harry started to doubt his own experiences with Hogwarts' most hated Professor.

Her crusade had meant the difference between Azkaban and Hogwarts. In the end, the Wizengamot sentenced Snape to twelve years as Hogwarts Headmaster, as restitution to the Wizarding world.

Harry was not complaining. He rather imagined he would have never seen Snape again, had Hermione not taken one look at Snape, pressed her lips together, and gone on to get Harry what he wanted, as she usually did. For Harry, it was almost as if there were two versions of Snape, one that Harry had seen every day for his six years of schooling, who had scowled and protested Harry’s very presence... and the Half-Blood Prince of his mum’s youth. Harry could see glimpses of the latter now, in Snape’s stillness, in the intensity of his gaze. Both of versions somehow met in the insolence with which Snape took their recent admiration. He didn’t seem to fit this post-Voldemort world, Harry thought often.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had followed Snape after dinner in the Great Hall. Not one sarcastic remark had been heard on the way to the Headmaster’s office, but Snape was definitely fuming. After seven years, Harry had become intimate with Snape's temper. These days, Snape took turns in niggling Harry for his presence at Hogwarts, giving unsolicited advice, and ignoring him. Harry enjoyed pushing him towards the first two, to break the mask of polite indifference. A well-placed 'Sir' did wonders nowadays.

Snape stopped in the doorway to the Headmaster's parlour. “What an unexpected congregation.”

Arthur Weasley had invited Harry, Ron and Hermione for tonight's meeting, but Harry didn't know who the other participants were. He tried to peer over his shoulder, but Snape was rather tall. “Professor,” he started, in case Snape had forgotten about them.

“I haven’t forgotten you, Mr Potter,” Snape replied throatily. Harry supposed he would have felt the intrusion of Legilimency, right? “How could I, when you seem to follow me everywhere like my own personal, custom-fit poltergeist?”

"I don't follow you around..." protested Harry. Only sometimes did he make an effort to be in the vicinity of the places Snape would be. And it was because he had important business to discuss with Snape, even if he refused to see Harry alone. Business like the opening of St Hedwig's Orphanage for Magical Children at Grimmauld Place, or that Harry was planning to buy Ollivander's. Not business like Lily Potter, even though Harry was sure Snape was dreading the day. Harry was too. It was weird to think about Snape loving his _mum_ , of all people. It didn't fit with the Snape that had haunted Harry for his entire school career. At Ron and Snape's shared look, Harry bristled. "I don't!"

“To be fair, you shouldn’t be walking around alone, Professor,” reasoned Hermione. She seemed to have taken leave to treat Snape like a difficult child, after spending weeks discussing his acquittal with him. “Especially so soon after leaving the Infirmary.”

“How gallant of you to do Poppy’s bidding,” Snape drawled.

Harry knew exactly what would be the expression on his face. A condescending sneer that demonstrated what he thought of their change of heart. It was an expression Snape had attempted when he woke and found Harry sitting at his side. Or when McGonagall poured him pumpkin juice at lunch, a disapproving moue in her face at how little he ate. Harry quite agreed, he had terrible appetite. Not that he spent much time watching Snape during meals.

Much like after meals in the Great Hall, Snape gathered his robes about himself and strode to his desk, hiding behind the dark mahogany. He must be tired. Harry had never seen him sit down during class. Snape had never hid from anything back then. Except from people's good opinion, of course. It was a difficult habit to break, Harry knew. A snicker came from the vicinity of Dumbledore's sleeping portrait at Snape’s theatrics.

Harry glared at the portrait. He was yet to manage a conversation with the sneaky piece of canvas, since he was not allowed in the Headmaster’s Office without Snape and Dumbledore seemed to be asleep every time he did manage to bully Snape into providing company. Then again, since Snape was avoiding Harry, they had not talked much in the weeks since Snape’s brief period under Poppy’s care.

Besides, letters kept arriving, with business proposals, or donations to the Wizarding world. They came from all over the world and Harry was baffled at why they had decided to write to him, of all people. Luckily, George and Ginny had come to Harry’s aid, with Ron and Hermione busy elsewhere. Besides, it was good for them, to keep busy.

In any case, Snape had had most of his recovery in hand, despite Harry's concerns. He scowled and growled at Madam Pomfrey to follow his instructions, until she threatened to have Luna attend to his care. Luna had been one of the many students who volunteered to help with the wounded. Harry reckoned Snape liked exactly none of them but, of course, Luna would hardly let that stop her. She had stopped by his bed anyway and later announced to Harry that Snape was sleeping much better now that he knew the Golden Trio were on his case.

If her source was who Harry suspected, there had been a lot more of sarcasm in that report.

“It’s good to see you out and about, Severus,” said Kingsley with his dimpled smile. Harry frowned when Snape let out a benign huff. (Harry could tell the difference between Snape’s benign huffs, usually for McGonagall, and an evil one... Usually for Harry.) “I meant to stop by after your trial, but these have been hectic weeks.”

“Molly and I meant to talk to you as well, Severus,” agreed Arthur Weasley. He was sitting by the fire, a tired look in his eyes. Fred’s death hung over them all in different ways. “Between the children and the Death Eater arrests, I’ve been at the end of my rope. It’s good to keep busy, though,” he added.

“We managed to arrest almost everyone," reported Kingsley, as if he was in an Order meeting. "Most of them ran away after his fall, but we’ve had some help,” he noted, with a nod to Mrs Malfoy. On the far side of the room, perching on an armchair, was Narcissa Malfoy.

“You’ve been consulting too, I believe,” said Kingsley to Snape, grinning.

Harry frowned at the quip. Over the last few weeks, Harry had spent a lot of time meeting with people he had never seen before. He had taken a couple of interviews from international newspapers. He had even consulted with the Ministry on the topic of Voldemort and Death Eaters, on Kingsley’s request. Harry didn't know Kingsley had been consulting with Snape, too.

“You made Potter angry, Kingsley,” croaked Snape. “He doesn’t like to feel left out of other people’s business.”

“Voldemort is my business,” objected Harry, at the same time Kingsley said, “You would know.”

They stared at each other, until Mrs Malfoy cleared her throat. “I believe we had urgent business to discuss, Minister?”

“What business, Narcissa?” asked Snape, expression impassive. “And how does it concern you?” Harry supposed Snape hadn't spent much time with Narcissa Malfoy since the war. He had no reason to trust her, but both Harry and Kingsley had seen her single-minded efforts to recover the family's reputation. It didn't seem to matter that her husband was in Azkaban, and that her son had been hiding at home since May. Narcissa had managed to get a hand in everything the Ministry had been doing for the reparations.

“Rita Skeeter has contacted the Board of Governors with a business proposal, Severus” she explained. “She wishes to document the reconstruction works at Hogwarts. For historical purposes, I believe was her wording.” Hermione scoffed. “Quite,” said Mrs Malfoy, without looking at Hermione. Neither she or Draco seemed to be able to meet her eye. “Rita wants to bring the American journalist she worked with in her past _opus_. I believe they are less interested in Hogwarts and more interested in Mr Potter, Severus.”

“Only Skeeter would come up with an idea to profit from the war,” said Ron with disgust.

“Why choose you to share the good news, Narcissa?”

“Draco has replaced Lucius in the Board of Governors and since you are an old friend of the family….”

Snape leaned back in the Headmaster’s chair. “I'm afraid you have wasted your time. My answer is absolutely not.”

A sudden certainty filled Harry, looking between everyone in room. Hermione and Ron were refusing to meet Harry’s eye. Arthur was looking somewhat apologetic, Kingsley determined. Mrs Malfoy looked too innocent for anyone's taste. He exchanged a look with Snape and saw his own conclusion there. “You all knew." He came to stand next to the Headmaster’s desk, arms crossed.

"We thought you might need some support, Harry," said Hermione.

"Whatever is your decision, mate" Ron added pointedly.

"Did you think it would be anything other than absolutely not?" demanded Harry, with a nod to Snape.

Snape fixed them with a hard stare. “Hogwarts is a place of peace and quiet for anyone who needs it." Harry knew what he meant. Hogwarts was home. It was sanctuary. All the orphans, the wounded, the grieving would find a place here. Harry would do anything to protect the castle from predatory eyes like Skeeter's.

Kingsley considered Harry. Harry did not like the look on his face.

“The final call will be made by the Board of Governors, of course.”

“You believe you can force me in this matter, if all the professors are against you?” Harry admired Mrs Malfoy’s courage. "Not to mention Harry Potter? If you think Hogwarts will follow the will of anyone else...."

“There are perks, of course,” Hermione piped up. Harry was becoming a bit worried at this sudden alliance. “The profits of the book would revert to Hogwarts and the post-war efforts.”

Snape scoffed. “We have quite a solid fund for the reconstruction, thank you.”

“As a bonus,” Hermione insisted, “the publisher would support the creation of a Wolfsbane Laboratory. It is to be managed by the foremost expert in Wolfsbane.” From his face, Harry guessed this expert happened to be Snape. And such research would save him from a life of boredom due to his sentence as indentured Headmaster.

“We will need it, with all the kids Fenrir got his hands on, won’t we?” said Arthur.

Harry worried his lip. Mr Weasley was right. And Harry would be in London in a few days, so Skeeter would probably lose interest in a short while and Snape would be alone...

“Don’t you dare pout now, Potter,” Snape barked. “I will not open Hogwarts to strangers, when we can not even get it to be friendly to the construction workers! The Quidditch pitch is burnt to pieces. We have bits of stone hanging about. There is a Venomous Tentacula loose on the grounds. _And_ we will be opening soon for summer remedial lessons to see if we can get students up to date, after last year!” Snape enunciated. "The last thing I need at this point is to also worry about a snoop on the grounds!" To the others, he added, “Moreover, Potter will be on his way to the Auror Training Program in a few days.”

“Sir,” Harry tried. Snape swore under his breath.

“What about the kids that Fenrir caught?" Kingsley insisted, an odd glint in his eye. Harry was starting to question his belief that Kingsley had been a Gryffindor. "Most of them were left at St Hedwig’s, under Molly's care....”

"We have no place for a research project of that magnitude.”

"Well," Hermione offered. Snape turned her glare on her. "There is always the Chamber of Secrets."

Snape went still. With a lot more calm than he had demonstrated before, he hedged, “Of course, Potter is part of the deal, I believe." He was looking at Harry with that curious, intense look that made Harry feel a bit hot around the middle. Harry knew what a scheming Snape looked like and he did not appreciate seeing him now.

"Well, we are going to London soon,” reminded Ron.

"Moving in with Ginny, right, Harry?" asked Arthur with a very serious expression. Harry blushed, embarrassed and confused. Arthur looked worried. Didn't he want Harry to move in with Ginny? Did he doubt Harry's commitment? (Like Harry himself?)

“I think it’s for the best if you all take the summer to finish your formal training... and think about your life choices,” Kingsley concluded. Harry wanted to groan in frustration. He wanted to help the kids, but not at the expense of his carefully-made plans! “Yes, it's best if you should take your NEWTs at the beginning of September, like your Seven Year classmates. It's only a few months, Harry.”

"Months with Potter go by differently, Kingsley," Snape informed him, with surprising honesty.

"The same goes for Ron, in fact," said Kingsley.

Ron straightened in outrage. “But I’ll never pass my NEWTs!”

Hermione scoffed. "You will, even if it's the last thing I do!"

Harry suspected neither would he, but decided he should play the hero-argument instead. “I would feel sort of stupid to come back to school after everything, you know?” It almost sounded as if Snape had huffed a laugh.

“It will good for all of you to take some time,” insisted Arthur.

"But..." Ron protested. "Potions!"

Snape was considering Harry with a worrisome look in his eye. “All right, Potter,” he said finally. “Let us come to an arrangement. I will allow this travesty to grace the halls of Hogwarts. In return, you and your little friends,” Ron and Hermione bristled, “will stay at Hogwarts for the summer, to complete your schooling. You will set the example for your peers who have lost the school year. You will pass your required NEWTs. I will tutor you personally to make sure that is the case. Does that sound acceptable?”

"Not me, you won't," muttered Ron. Hermione elbowed him on the side.

Harry hesitated and something that felt surprisingly like relief started to grow in his chest. After a moment, he decided to take a risk. He approached the Headmaster's desk and offered his hand. “Yes, sir. We have a deal.”

Snape closed his warm hand around Harry’s smaller one for one infinite moment, before letting go. Harry fought to calm his heart and, after a moment, Snape cleared his throat. “We have a deal, Mr Potter. We will start Monday at eight. You will have two hours of my time each day, until the end of summer.” Harry wondered how someone could make such an innocuous sentence sound so ominous. “By the end of it, you will be fit for the Auror Training Program or I’ll eat the Sorting Hat.”

“Hey!” came the muffled protest from a cabinet to the left of Snape’s desk.

Harry was too busy holding Snape’s stare to pay the outraged Sorting Hat any mind. “I will do my best, sir.”

Ron choked a protest. "Oh, no! 'Mione, did you see...?"

"Hush, Ron," hissed Hermione.

“Yes, you will,” said Snape, a manic glint in his eye. “I hope you have brushed up on your Potions knowledge by Monday. We will start on NEWT level and I have no intention of mollycoddling the dashing hero of the Wizarding world.”

"Dashing...!"

"Hush, Ron!"

And that was how Harry ended up standing in front of the door to the Room of Hidden Things.

He had spent five minutes walking back and forth like a berk, before realising the Room of Requirement had got stuck, and would not be Summoned anymore. It looked almost the same as Harry had last seen it, if he was to be honest, if a bit more... charred. Everything was black as coals, but further to the back, it looked almost as if it was... recovering. Could that be true? Figuring he had more than a good chance at finding the Half-Blood Prince’s book, Harry decided to take a chance. He hoped he could catch up with all the things Snape was sure to ask him for his NEWT Potions lesson before Monday.

Harry had turned a corner made of burnt books and shelves, when he froze. Snape and McGonagall seemed to be looking for something a bit further down the old-furniture corridor. Or rather, Snape was going through a pile of books, while McGonagall sat on a flamboyant armchair, disapproving from a distance.

“Severus,” sighed McGonagall. Since Harry and Hermione had appeared in the Great Hall, Levitating an unconscious Snape, and telling the Prince’s tale to everyone in earshot, McGonagall rarely left his side. She seemed always a step away from patting Snape's head like a dutiful grandmother. Harry knew she had felt guilty at first, before the old fond exasperation had reared its head. Harry suspected Snape was well aware of it, going by the way he kept sidestepping her attempts to smooth his robes. “Are you sure you need to go to all this trouble for a book?

Harry stopped breathing as Snape replied. “It’s not any book, Minerva,” Snape croaked. “It was my mother’s book. More important, however...” Snape trailed off, eyes narrowing, and Harry knew he had been spotted. “It is the difference between a cheating Potter and one that is going to learn what I have to teach.”

McGonagall scoffed, as Harry groaned for himself. The bastard was always one step ahead. He stepped into the light, shrugging when McGonagall startled. “Mr Potter, what are you doing here?”

“Trying to find my old Potions book.”

“My Potions book, you mean,” Snape pointed out.

Harry crossed his arms. “It was my book last.”

Snape made a show of imitating Harry’s stance. He was in his shirtsleeves, the Dark Mark on display in his muscled forearm. Snape had been going out of his way not to let people forget what he had been. Bully for him, very few people seemed to mind his rebellion. In fact, his temper only seemed to endear him to the masses. “It depends on whether I find it first, doesn’t it?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at the challenge.

McGonagall looked from one to the other and huffed. “To think I told Kingsley he was mental. And Dumbledore, too," she added, as an afterthought. "You know, I think you are in good hands, Severus. I’ll take a moment to supervise the Quidditch Pitch reconstruction.”

Harry recalled the burning stands of last month. He looked at her, intending to offer her something, but McGonagall smiled. “Do make sure Severus doesn’t exert himself, Mr Potter. I trust you will manage to be more stubborn than him, if he tries.”

"Of course, Professor."

"He can certainly pout to save his life," muttered Snape.

"And yours?" asked McGonagall, turning to leave.

Snape turned to Harry, watching him with his bottomless eyes. They gave nothing away, except for that bizarre glint. Snape often looked at Harry like this since the war ended, but Harry had the strangest feeling it had begun before that. He couldn't recall a precise occasion, but a constant feeling of warm eyes on him. It made Harry’s heart beat faster with the need to... do something.

“Oh, Merlin!”

Harry and Snape startled to see that McGonagall had bumped into a curtain. Or rather, something heavy covered by a curtain. After a moment of quietness, McGonagall pulled the curtain aside. Snape choked a noise of protest and Harry smothered a snicker, only to become silent at the revelation of what hid below. It was something Harry had not seen for ages. “I had wondered where it had gone,” McGonagall said.

“How in the world--?” Harry glanced at Snape, to see his shocked expression. “I thought he had got rid of it.” Harry had not heard him say Dumbledore’s name since that night.

“I imagine he did,” said McGonagall. “But it always finds a way to come back.” At Snape and Harry’s confusion, she explained, “The Mirror of Erised belongs to Hogwarts. No matter how many times we tried to get rid of it, it always came back. It is hardly a thing to keep around students, but it was never as well-behaved as when Albus was Headmaster. I imagine you will have your work cut out for you, Severus.” She shifted sideways until she stood in front of the Mirror, and chuckled. “Look at that, it never changes.”

Harry bit his lip to prevent himself to ask a very invasive question.

Behind Harry Snape snorted. “Do share, Minerva. Lest Mr Potter die of unsatisfied curiosity.”

McGonagall chuckled. “It’s hardly a secret. It is supper in the Great Hall. I am Deputy Headmistress. The students are happy and plotting trouble. It rather reminds me of your first year at Hogwarts, Mr Potter.” Her expression darkened. “Well, if one fails to consider Quirrell." She sighed. "Severus was most disgruntled at how precocious you were, Harry..." Harry blushed and smiled at her fond tone.

“Lazy! Arrogant!” protested Snape, but she waved him away.

“You saw what you wanted to see. And you had to try really hard to see it,” she informed him. Snape huffed. “It was amusing, in a way. Quidditch was the most important thing for you that year. Severus was beside himself at how good you were!” she laughed. “Albus was so happy that you were here, Harry.”

Harry felt a lump in his throat. “I was happy to be here too, Professor.”

McGonagall looked at them and huffed. “Merlin, it is hard to say which one of you looks the worst! I feel I could strangle that man sometimes...” So saying, she went around the Mirror and headed out, grumbling beneath her breath. Harry supposed it must be hard for her to live through the consequences of war twice.

He glanced at Snape and saw him look at the Mirror, before shaking himself and turning around, shoulders tense. Perhaps he knew what he would see and didn’t want the reminder. (Was it Harry’s mum?) Harry could see the white bandages peek from under his high collar. Like Snape, Harry looked at the Mirror, and back at Snape. He wondered what he would see in the Mirror of Erised today… Perhaps himself as Head Auror, a couple of kids and a house in Godric’s Hollow? Or a tenure at Hogwarts? A Quidditch contract? London or Scotland? Ginny or…? He wondered if the Mirror would know, when Harry himself didn’t.

A voice that sounded like Dumbledore’s reminded him that it doesn’t do to dwell on dreams. Harry pulled the curtain over the Mirror of Erised, but not before catching a glimpse at it. He turned to Snape. “So, Professor,” he prompted casually, over his wildly beating heart. “Whoever finds the book gets to keep it?

Looking at Harry beneath his fringe, Snape smirked. “As you wish, Mr Potter.”

Harry should have known better than to make a deal with a Slytherin.

“That bloody bastard!” he vented a few days later, when he got to a particular incomprehensible passage in his new copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_. Well, it was not actually new. Harry had got it from Snape’s old classroom, but it had none of his previous book’s charisma. He told Ron and Hermione so. “The lying cheat had already found it, when he took the bet.”

“Mate,” said Ron, eyebrows high in his forehead. “You’ve said that a lot this weekend... Is this going to be like your Malfoy thing?”

“What Malfoy thing?”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. They had been doing that a lot lately. Ignoring their silent conversation, Harry turned to glare at Snape at the Head table. There was definitely a smirk in his lips, as he flicked through Harry’s copy of Advanced Potions-Making. The one that used to belong to Snape, but was definitely Harry’s. Why he would need it at breakfast was anyone's guess.

Harry made a show of ignoring him and looked around the Great Hall.

There were few students. Some Seven Year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, looking to take their NEWTs. From Slytherin, Blaise Zabini was back, as was Millicent Bulstrode. Other students had decided to repeat their regular Seventh Year, like Neville. Even though his grandmother had pressured him to get into the Auror Training Program with Harry and Ron, Neville felt his education was important. And, these days, nobody could make Neville Longbottom do something he didn't want to do. At their table, only Seamus and Dean had stayed for the summer. Parvati would not come back without Lavender.

Mostly, the Great Hall was filled with many construction workers: charms masters, curse-breakers and potioneers. Some of them were volunteers, some paid by the many donations Harry had received. Narcissa Malfoy had helped him set up a foundation, kindly managed by her, of course. That is, until Hermione finished school.

The teachers were all in attendance. Harry knew they would be instrumental in settling Hogwarts' magic after the siege. Harry himself felt at peace in these halls. It was like greeting an old friend.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. He caught Ron gesturing between Harry and Hermione. She shook her head and pointed between Snape and Harry. Their conversation didn't seem to be over. Harry rolled his eyes and turned to his book.

In the end, Harry spent most of the following days revising. Even though the exams were in October, he had no doubt remedial Potions with Snape would be Nastily Exhausting.

Harry also found that he wanted to prove himself capable of finishing his education. He might not be as academically-oriented as Hermione or Snape, but he had been a good student. He was quite sure that he was good at magic beyond killing Dark Wizards. Surely love wasn’t the only advantage he had! Right? Harry hoped so. His parents had been smart, everyone said so. So Harry would study and Snape would let him know if he was failing miserably.

Of course, trying to catch up with Sixth Year Potions was not all that easy, since Harry had spent most of his time copying off Snape’s book. So, Harry ended up trying to cram up the last few chapters at breakfast before his first lesson of the summer. He also had his other NEWTs to worry about, Harry thought with dismay. Besides Potions, he was confident in his knowledge and he felt useless, doing little else other than feeling safe and studying.

"Maybe I should ask him if I can help with the reconstruction works," said Harry suddenly.

His friends startled. They turned to face Harry in a Fred-and-George kind of way.

“Listen, Harry,” started Hermione.

Before she could mention Harry’s saving-people thing, the door to the Great Hall flew open.

The worst piece of news Harry could remember sauntered inside, wielding a smile and a quill. He instantly regretted agreeing to this joke. Rita Skeeter entered the Great Hall, followed by a wily man with what looked like a telescopic camera. Skeeter smiled and waved at the construction workers, who were looking at her with horrified expressions. Nobody in this crowd quite wanted to be in the spotlight, after the Ministry’s Muggle-born hunt the previous year. Snape looked ready to draw his wand.

Right at the entrance, Skeeter stopped next to a discreet door that Harry knew led to a large closet space. He also remembered whom they had put there a few weeks before. Of course, Voldemort and his followers had been removed, but who knew what they had left behind. Or whether any sort of curse remained on the place. Nobody had dared to go in since. How Skeeter had learned about the importance of that closet was beyond Harry.

"That despicable beetle," hissed Hermione, moving to get up, a look of indignation marring her kind face.

Her disregard for their hardships was as repulsive as Umbridge's hypocrisy.

“Great way to start, that,” commented Ron, with a shake of his head.

Next to Skeeter, the photographer seemed to hesitate.

Before any of them decided to do something, Snape strode down from the teachers’ table, all billowing robes and killing glare. He crossed the Great Hall in seconds, while Harry waited with bated breath for the spectacle that was sure to follow.

Snape grabbed the photographer’s arm and bent down to murmur something in Skeeter’s ear. Her eyes widened and narrowed, but she nodded, and moved away from the door. The photographer skulked after her, Snape’s hard eyes on them both.

Harry grinned and looked at Ron and Hermione, both of whom were looking quite chuffed at being on the right side of Snape’s famous temper. There was something like pride creeping up in Harry’s chest. He could see all students trying to hide their smiles. It rather reminded Harry of his fifth year, of the war on Umbridge, how the entire school seemed to take exception to her existence.

Harry laughed at the thought that they had _won_. They would win, as long as they stood together. Hogwarts and its people were still standing, despite all the death and grief. The teachers at the table looked on in silent support of the Headmaster. That Snape had been theirs to the very end was a heady victory, one that Harry was sure McGonagall also felt keenly. (And it had not ended for him, not yet.) The sense of togetherness made Harry believe, as he had rarely done, that he was free to be just-Harry.

All of a sudden, there was a murmur of wonder growing around Harry. Surely Snape’s actions did not warrant all that, Harry thought. He turned, his eyes searching Ron and Hermione, who were looking at him in confusion. Further down the Gryffindor table, Dean and Seamus were looking up in astonishment.

Harry looked up and cried out in surprise.

The magical ceiling in the Great Hall, which had stayed blank since Dumbledore’s death, had let the sun peek through the clouds. It was cloudy and rainy, but it would likely clear later.

Some construction workers were exclaiming in excitement, seeing Hogwarts for the first time. Others looked baffled at the sudden development, after weeks of trying to renew the charm. Madam Pomfrey had her hands pressed together in front of her face, looking a bit misty-eyed. McGonagall was looking up with a mix of sorrow and nostalgia. Harry could guess who was on her mind. Even Skeeter’s photographer was amazed, taking pictures as if his life depended on it. Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill scribbled furiously on a piece of parchment hovering next to her.

Finally, Harry glanced at Snape, who was looking curiously at him. Harry smiled and he could swear he saw a small twitch of lips. He grinned wider.

That was, until he met Skeeter's eye.

Ignoring her shrewd look and her dangerous Quill, Harry moved to meet Snape halfway across the Great Hall. “It was about time.” Snape inclined his head in assent. “Do you think it has anything to do with you? With the teachers recognising you as Headmaster, I mean.”

Stopping short at Harry's question, Snape took a moment to answer. “You always had the strangest intuition for magic and Hogwarts," he commented. "However, I believe it is more likely that our collective dislike for Rita Skeeter has given Hogwarts a new life.”

Harry disagreed. If there was something he had learned from Dumbledore was that positive emotions can move mountains, but negative ones got you nowhere. Rather than the teachers and students' dislike for Skeeter and her invasion of Hogwarts' halls, Harry thought it was their loyalty to its new Headmaster that made the Hogwarts heal a little bit more.

Hermione later suggested the charmed ceiling of the Great Hall was a good omen for Snape.

She was, as it rarely happened, dead wrong.

A couple of weeks later, Harry was on his way to the dungeons after a quick breakfast, when he spotted Snape. He was standing in front of a window, near the Great Hall.

“Hello, sir,” Harry greeted, coming to stand next to him. Was he standing too close?

Some construction workers were trying to return the lawn to its even state, but had been derailed by the Venomous Tentacula Professor Sprout had unleashed on Voldemort’s followers.

“Mr Potter,” replied Snape, still as stone. “I had wondered when you would appear. I must confess some surprise at finding myself sequestered to the vicinity of Great Hall. Of course, it is a remarkable improvement over last week’s stint in the Prefects’ bathroom. The castle must be losing its touch.” For some reason, Hogwarts seemed determined to stop Snape from brooding in solitude. Harry was quite okay with that, and he knew McGonagall agreed.

Recalling last week’s incident, Harry blushed.

Snape looked at him oddly. He shuffled, a dark mood coming over him.

For the last couple of days or so, Harry had been finding Snape in the oddest of places. Near Hagrid’s hut, outside the Gryffindor Tower, during one of Harry's one-on-one Quidditch games with Ginny, in front of the Prefects’ bathroom... That had been last week. Harry had been exiting the Prefects’ bathroom, after an indulgent shower, when he bumped into Snape. The Headmaster had been wearing his black nightgown and had a Muggle fiction book in his hand. He looked as if he had intended to jump into bed, before finding himself on the fifth floor, with a armful of Harry Potter.

“Are you sure...?”

“That I am not losing my mind?” Snape cut in, with a disdainful glance at Harry. “Believe it or not, Potter, I’m quite familiar with my own head and its darkest paths.”

"I meant to say 'are you sure you are not where you are meant to be'!"

“This damned castle is taking me to places where I most certainly did not mean to be!”

“Okay!” Harry held up his hands. Snape would throw a fit if he thought Harry was mocking him. “It’s strange, that’s all.”

"Do you think I particularly enjoy finding myself watching the Gryffindor mating dance on brooms?" he demanded angrily.

Harry blushed. "It was not a mating dance! We've decided to call it quits."

"I do not care," Snape replied, not looking at Harry. Harry's heart skipped a beat, when he realised that Snape was _lying_. He did care. But why? Did he also think Harry was not interested enough in Ginny, like she did? Harry hoped that Snape had a bit more of an interest than that... He put the thought from his mind and glanced at Snape, to see if he suspected Harry's crazy thoughts. But Snape looked lost in his own dark ones.

It was something that happened frequently these days.

In the safety of the dungeons, Snape often forgot to be cold and indifferent with Harry. Of course, he bullied Harry until he got the right answer. He provided lengthy reading material, and smirked when Harry failed to understand half of it. He prodded Harry towards the right path, which was never easy or even... pedagogical. He wrote awful letters to the potion experts Harry dared to reference. He was a terrible teacher, but such a bloody brilliant Potions master. He seemed to know _everything_.

Hermione was jealously prodding Harry for reports on his lessons.

Other times, Snape went quiet. His thoughts turned inwards. Usually whenever he laughed, or smiled. Or worse, whenever he made Harry laugh, or smile. Whenever they stood a bit closer. Whenever Harry dared to inhale the scent of his aftershave. Of course, brewing Amortentia alone with Snape had been a disaster. Snape had not said a work to Harry for a week. It was ultimately why he had gone to Ginny to set things right….

Harry had explained that he was not quite right in the head, so they needed to break up. Since Ginny was wonderful, she understood when not to ask questions. She had sighed and said, "I reckon Hermione was right then.” Of course she was, thought Harry. Hermione was always right, even when Harry refused to think about what. “It's okay, Harry. We're still family."

Harry tried not to be offended that Hermione knew and that Ginny had given up so easily. Surely Harry deserved a bit of a fight, no?

“The strangest part is that it keeps placing me in your path,” Snape suddenly told Harry, as if everything was Harry’s fault. “One might almost be inclined to ask what have you done now, Potter... but I’ve given up getting a reasonable answer when I have questions about the doings of powerful wizards.”

“I am not...”

“A powerful wizard? Or capable of giving me a reasonable answer?”

Harry crossed his arms. “If you would just let me get a word in...”

“I have no patience for this conversation,” Snape interrupted, turning on his heel, robes billowing after him, as he headed towards the dungeons. Seeing that Harry failed to comply quickly enough, Snape barked, “Move your plump arse, Potter. If you can fly at dangerous speeds, you can also keep up, despite your diminutive stature.”

Harry was torn between offense at being called short, and flattery that Snape seemed to have noticed his 'plump arse'. In the end, Harry ran after him, a giggle daring to escape.

Neither of them noticed the flash of the camera.

*

Summer went on.

Harry helped with the reconstructions when a softer touch was needed. Snape seemed to think Hogwarts fancied Harry, so Harry could often be seen talking to stone like a berk. And somehow, it seemed to work. He studied with Ron and Hermione, and felt confidant he would be able to get his NEWTs. He spent two hours with Snape in the dungeons, every day. They didn't always talk about Potions and it was their time together that made Harry dread the end of the summer. Could he visit after? Snape didn't seem to think Harry would...

On day in September, Snape strode into the Potions classroom, smirk firmly in place as he turned to Harry with the surprise question of the day... only to stop short at the sight of Ron and Hermione. “Couldn’t you three be away from each other for two hours?”

Ron frowned. “No, actually.”

With a sigh, Hermione explained, “We cannot get away from Harry.”

Whatever Snape had been waiting for, that wasn’t it. “What do you mean?" he asked, even when Harry could almost see his mind working as he tried to figure it out. "Why is it always you three?”

"Why is it always Harry, you mean," Ron corrected. Harry glared.

“Indeed. I’m not sure why, Potter,” Snape told him, “but I’m sure it’s your fault somehow. Every time I get involved in anything bizarre, I owe it to you.”

“Hey!” said Harry. “You owe at least a quarter of it to Dumbledore and half to your poor teenage choices.”

Hermione gasped, as Snape narrowed his eyes.

“You’re done for, mate,” Ron felt the need to inform Harry.

Harry knew he wasn't. Snape spared one last look at Harry, promising retribution, before he waved his wand. Potion instructions appeared in the blackboard. As usual, Harry would have to guess the mistake, but the instructions never looked anything like the Prince’s. But then, the Prince had grown, hadn’t he? The thought made Harry blush for some reason. He was very aware of Snape’s presence nearby, his broad shoulders and strong arms. Would he be able to lift Harry? Not that Harry wanted to lifted, of course! He was just curious...

Snape must have seen something in Harry's face, because he stared at Harry. Hermione sighed. Then Ron sighed.

Harry turned to look at them, but neither seemed very willing to look Snape in the eye. “No help from the peanut gallery, Potter,” chided Snape, propping his feet on his desk. He lay back with a potions journal and a red pen.

“Going to correct the potions journal, sir?” Harry asked casually.

Snape harrumphed and hid his face behind the journal. "Focus on your potion, Potter. You have a Potions exam in a week."

Harry looked at Hermione and nodded towards the blackboard. Hermione shook her head and immediately Ron jumped to Harry’s defence, nudging her with his elbow. “I miss the time when one would just have to stand close to you to know all your plans,” lamented Snape, behind his potions journal. “Any of you three care to share your silent conversation?”

“No,” said Ron. At Hermione’s nudge, he added, “Thanks.”

Hermione looked up, as if in prayer. Snape narrowed his eyes at Ron and seemed to be stopping himself from taking points. Ron smirked. “I’m sure Harry will take the bait, though.”

“Yes, gone are the days when you would follow me around, sir."

Ron groaned. “Yes, now it’s Harry doing the following."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Men!" She pulled Rita Skeeter's new book, _The Restoration of Hogwarts: A Story of Love and Magic_. Harry knew she was halfway through and, so far, the book was congratulatory of their efforts. It focused quite a bit on the history of the Founders. Hermione was impressed at Rita's ability to research and write a book in such a short time. Harry had his suspicions about it.

“My services are no longer needed,” said Snape lightly. “I’ve served that particular sentence for seven years, it’s quite enough. After the peace and quiet of the Brewing Years, I’ve not had a mo--"

Suddenly, Hermione drew in a sharp breath.

Snape stopped short and they all looked at her in alarm. There was a deep blush in her cheeks. Harry could see her wild eyes travel the pages of the book with all the speed Hermione could muster. "Oh no," she muttered. "Oh, no!" Ron was reading over her shoulder.

Worse than Hermione's blush was Ron's shock, that made the freckles in his nose stand out. "Bloody hell!"

"Hermione!" Harry called, catching his friend's attention. She looked horrified. "What's she done now?" And how bad could it really be? If her biography of Dumbledore was any sign, Rita was probably already pitching Harry as the next Dark Lord.

Patience gone, Snape strode to Hermione and pulled the book from her hands, ignoring Ron's protest. As soon as he opened it, his face went pallid. Snape looked at the three of them, eyes wide with shock and... fear? Harry moved to grab the book, but Snape pulled it out of reach, skimming over the chapter in a rush. Harry glanced at Hermione. She was looking at Snape with something akin to _pity_ in her eyes.

That was when Harry started to worry.

Snape swore under his breath. He threw Rita's book against the wall, and left in a haze of anger. He didn't look back. Forcing himself to be calm, Harry picked up the book and looked at the chapter's name. "The Prince's Tale," he read aloud. Harry started, a sudden worry coming to his mind. "Is it...?"

"It's not his memories," said Hermione. "She talks about his life, exposes a few past boyfriends..." Harry twitched at her words. "She casts some doubts on his innocence." Harry was still stuck on Snape's past boyfriends. Who were they? Was he in a relationship? "Harry,” Hermione called forcefully, “read this."

Harry looked at the passage she had pointed out.

_Headmaster Snape's proclivities are not known too many. It is perhaps the reason why Harry Potter has lowered his guard around the ex-Death Eater. Snape's 'love' for Potter's mother has been well-advertised in a campaign to acquit him of his crimes, but what if the master-spy has played the Chosen One and his friends? Snape fooled the great Albus Dumbledore and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... And the Hero of the Wizarding World has grown as beautiful as the late Lily Potter, a talented and smart witch._

_During our work at Hogwarts, it was customary to see Snape following Harry Potter in Hogwarts' hallowed halls. Wherever Mr Potter was, Snape was sure to appear. He looked at the young man with desire one should never have for someone so much younger. Harry Potter has not been a match for Snape's wiles. It is known he put an end to his relationship with Ginevra Weasley, sister of one of Harry's most loyal associates. Has the Chosen One been manipulated into an infatuation that will cost him his future happiness?_

The photo was of Snape and Harry outside the Great Hall.

It was a different perspective than Harry’s at the time. Snape was looking at Harry in that curious way he had, something like... admiration? Snape looked terribly satisfied to be the one Harry was talking to. His hand hovered next to Harry's, as if he would like to reach out, but wasn't sure how. Or that he should. He hovered towards Harry, his eyes roaming Harry’s body for a moment.

He looked at Ron and Hermione with a smile, only to stop short at their worried expressions.

"Mate," said Ron. "It goes on to talk about Snape's first year as Headmaster. There are some nasty quotes there."

"We are happy for you, whatever you want," said Hermione. Ron nodded, much to Harry's relief. "But think about Snape. You know..."

Oh, Harry knew. He felt fear start to raise its ugly head. Snape would be furious, he would never speak to Harry again. Harry knew a lot about Snape, and his experiences with the Dursleys had left their own scars. Harry suspected Snape had some of the same. There was a feeling of fierce protectiveness rising within Harry. And contrary to popular belief, Harry knew how to read the signs. Snape would find a way to blame Harry and they would never...

The lights in the dungeons flickered.

The last thing Harry heard was Hermione’s voice calling his name, before he found himself promptly relocated to Snape’s office. Just as he found his balance, the door banged open, rocking the candelabra. Snape came in, only to growl in exasperation at the sight of Harry in his office. “How in Merlin’s name…? Is a wizard not have peace even in his home?”

“I know you’re angry…”

“Angry!” shouted Snape. He picked one of Dumbledore’s silver instruments and threw it against the wall. It was a familiar sight. “Why would I be _angry_ at her very reasonable accusations?” After a moment, Snape seemed to think of something. He stalked to Harry. “You are a very powerful wizard, Potter. I don’t think you realise how much. Now, think! How did you get here?”

Harry looked up at Snape, in shock. He was standing awfully close. Why was it important, anyway? “I don’t know," Harry said honestly. "I was thinking I didn’t want you to push me away over that stupid book...”

Snape gripped his arms. “Potter. Did you mean for the ceiling in the Great Hall to return?”

“No!” Something niggled at the back of his mind and he knew he had to tell Snape. “I was thinking that I was glad you were the Headmaster. And then I wanted to go to your office and talk to you, but I couldn’t find an excuse, so you kept bumping into me.” Snape looked almost resigned, as if he had suspected Harry's answer all along. “I wondered if you liked Quidditch, that day with Ginny.”

Twin blotches of read appeared on Snape’s cheeks. “Potter... Harry, you cannot mean... I know what I looked like in Skeeter's picture.”

“I also thought you, Ron and Hermione never talk, and that I wanted you to get along. And they were stuck in the Potions classroom...” Snape lowered his head, hair coming down to hide his face. “Do you think I’ve been doing all this?”

“I think it’s strange that the Room of Requirement lost its power, but it still exists as the Room of Hidden Things,” he said. “You wanted my book." Harry nodded. "Potter..."

"Severus," Harry tried. "Sev." The word felt strange, as if he was borrowing from someone else. Snape looked at Harry in shock. "I’m not confused,” said Harry, with sudden certainty. "I'm not going to change my mind tomorrow. I have no idea if I want to be an Auror, or a teacher, but I have no doubt about this. Do you want to see?" he asked, gesturing towards his head.

He half hoped Snape would refuse, but of course he didn’t. Not when he might find a weakness in Harry to level the field, so to speak. And Harry knew which memory he would have to show, the one he only dared to recall late at night, in the safety of his own bed.

In his mind, Harry saw a replay of his memories from the day they found the Mirror of Erised. In time, they got to the glimpse he had of the Mirror. At first, there was only Harry standing in the middle of the Room of Hidden Things. Then Snape--Severus appeared and curled an arm around Harry’s shoulders. The tiniest twist of lips gave away his smile. He was looking at Harry with that look that Harry finally came to identify as admiration and desire.

Next to them, Ron and Hermione were wearing matching rings; all the Weasleys, even a beaming Ginny. His mum and dad looked on. Sirius smirked. Remus chuckled, Tonks, Andromeda and Teddy by his side. The kids from St Hedwig’s played in the distance. His entire family stood beaming at Harry in front of Hogwarts’ gate.

After a moment, they all faded, leaving Harry standing in the middle of Snape’s office.

Snape slumped in the chair Mr Weasley had occupied months ago.

"What now?" asked Harry. "Do you believe me?"

Snape looked into the fireplace. "You will go to London. You will find out if the Auror Training Program suits you. You will date," he spat, as if it were a curse. "You will come back at Christmas... if you want."

Harry nodded. He had no intention of dating, but he would give up this battle to win the war. "Will I see you in Potions class?"

Snape grimaced. "I don't think..."

"I will ask Mrs Malfoy to handle Skeeter, if you want. She owes me." Snape nodded, refusing to look at Harry.

After a moment, Harry understood that Snape might need some time. It was all right. Harry already had what he wanted: an invitation to return. Harry would not let Snape threw happiness out, just because he was scared of happiness.

"Harry," came the sudden call. Harry came to kneel in front of his chair. Snape looked at him intently. Carefully, he hooked a finger beneath Harry's chin. Harry's heart started to beat wildly in his chest. Could it be...? Gently, Snape leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry's. It was soft at first, careful, gentle. There was affection here. When Harry whimpered, Snape's hand came to hold the back of his head. He deepened the kiss, tongue moving with purpose. Harry moaned, trying to get closer. But Snape pushed him away. "Take that with you to London." Harry grinned, Snape’s lips twitched. "Now Vanish!"

They snickered together, as Harry did as he was told for one of the first times in his life.

**Christmas Eve, 2018**

“Hey,” said Harry, coming out of the Floo with as much grace as he could muster.

“Harry,” Severus greeted him, without looking up. He was writing furiously in the black notebook that hid most of his research notes. “How does it feel to be the youngest Head Auror in a century?”

Harry grinned. “Bloody awesome! Aren’t you going to greet me properly?”

Severus lifted his head, eyes roaming approvingly at Harry, and made a show of placing his wedding ring back on his finger. He smirked. “Welcome home, dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [LiveJournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3852537.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1784847.html), or [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1104210.html).


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